St. George and St. Michael Volume III eBook

‘Sir Rowland,’ he said, ’I am not
angry with thee that thou art weak and passionate.
But bethink thee—­thou liest in God’s
hands a thousandfold more helpless than now thou liest
in mine, and like Saul of Tarsus thou wilt find it
hard to kick against the pricks. For the maiden,
do as thou wilt, for thou canst not do other than
the will of God. But I thank thee for what thou
hast told me, though I doubt it meaneth little better
for me than for thee. Thou hast a kind heart.
I almost love thee, and will when I can.’

He let go his hands, and walked from the room.

‘Canting hypocrite!’ cried sir Rowland
in the wrath of impotence, but knew while he said
the words that they were false.

And with the words the bitterness of life seized his
heart, and his despair shrouded the world in the blackness
of darkness. There was nothing more to live for,
and he turned his face to the wall.

CHAPTER LI.

Underthemoat.

It was some time ere they discovered that Scudamore
was missing from the castle, but there was the hope
that he had been taken prisoner; and things were growing
so bad within the walls, that there was little leisure
for lamentation over individual misfortunes. Unless
some change as entire as unexpected—­for
there seemed no chance of any except the king should
win over the Scots to take his part —­should
occur, it was evident that the enemy must speedily
make the assault, nor could there be a doubt of their
carrying the place—­an anticipation which,
as the inevitable drew nearer, became nothing less
than terrible to both household and garrison.
True, their conquerors would be of their own people,
but battle and bloodshed and victory, and, worst of
all, party-spirit, the marquis knew, destroy not nationality
merely, but humanity as well, rousing into full possession
the feline beast which has his lair in every man—­in
many, it is true, dwindled to the household cat, but
in many others a full-sized, only sleepy tiger.
To what was he about to expose his men, not to speak
of his ladies and their children!

On the other hand, ever since the balls had been flying
about his house, and the stones of it leaving their
places to keep them company, the loyalty of the marquis
had been rising, and he had thought of his prisoner-king
ever with growing tenderness, of his faults with more
indulgence, and of the wrongs he had done his family
with more magnanimity and forgiveness, so that, for
his own part, he would have held out to the very last.

‘And truly were it not better to be well buried
under the ruins,’ he would say to himself, looking
down with a sigh at his great bulk, which added so
much to the dismalness of the prospect of being, in
his seventieth year, a prisoner or a wanderer—­the
latter a worse fate even than the former. To
be no longer the master of his own great house, of
many willing servants, of all ready appliances for